A War of Stones: Book One of the Traveler Knight

by Howard Norfolk

  “I have been informed that the undermining of the wall is almost complete, and that the sap is ready to be burned,” he told them. They looked eager, but a few also looked guilty, or suspicious of how that had happened. They roared out, but not too loudly, as if they didn’t want Vous Vox and his minions in the burning castle beyond to hear them.

  “I wanted to say that our future now cannot be based on deliberate act of faithless treason, to place one of us up above the others, and thus endanger us all. Every bugger is your pot mate: that is the great treasure you need to take away from here. A kingdom is what men or buggers think it is, and that is why I am your king. If we do not do right by each other here, we will still win, but in the end we will all lose.”

  “The treasure of trust in one another we must take from here, and if we do not, sometime in the future, we may all be rich, but we will also find ourselves fatally poor. The thrings will wait for that, until we are all divided from one another, and then they will have a meal of our parts, when they could not have otherwise hoped to swallow us whole.” He looked around, meeting them in the eyes, and saw their mixed reaction to what he had said.

  “I have word that Sterina, the White Child is attempting to put together another army to fight us, and relieve the Stone Pile. So I have decided to destroy and sack it right now. We will not have to fight her new army, if there is no Stone Pile left here for her to relieve. The buggers are great. If you have not seen that yet, prepare yourselves, and in a little while it will happen again!” He turned and jumped down off the side of the ram, into the crowd, and he pushed his way back through them when they would not give him way.

  “What do you mean!” a chief shouted at him. “How soon?”

  “Not soon enough,” he said. “I will go and assess the state of the sap, and decide when it will be lit, but you should all be prepared for it to happen in an hour, or at some time in the next three days. Continue until then with the building of the ram.” He put his arm out, and the chief now let him go past, and he made his way from there back to his tent. He sat with Kabi and watched the Stone Pile burn, until the rain came in that afternoon and began to put it out.

  “There is a shelf of rock out in the east Dimm,” he told her. “It is very large, but the depth there is only about five to ten feet.”

  “I know of the place,” she said. “There are springs that come out of the rocks there. Very sweet they say.”

  “No one goes out there but for the water,” he said, “as it is too far out to bring back the small catches of fish, as they will spoil. But if someone was to go out there and begin dropping rocks down into the water, they could soon build an island out upon it. Many stones would soon become a single stone, a new stone, and they could make what they wanted to there upon it. That is what I want to try and do, twenty miles from the rest of the buggers. It would be a part of the Dimm, but apart from the Dimm. The whole east shore of the Priwak would be under that castle’s thumb.”

  “That is a very big project,” she pointed out.

  “Is it not right for a bugger to dream?” he asked her. More logically he added. “It would be a small thing to make it so, much smaller than the construction of the Wet Way, for instance.”

  “I would like to be away from here,” she said. And now he totally agreed with her.

  Around the tent a lot went on, but nothing inside it changed much for the rest of the day. Kulith reflected that they had always been ahead of the other buggers, always been ready for this, and now it was the rest of them that were suddenly trying to catch up. In the evening, Big Agrok came to see him with several of his sub-chiefs, and he was furious.

  “There is a rumor going around in the camp to the kernel that I have conspired with the thyrs to burn the mine under the Stone Pile’s wall early, thus keeping many warriors from being included in the fight and looting.”

  “Well I have never said that,” Kulith said, scratching at his chin as several more of the White Knife warriors drifted into the tent, to even the odds out. He had considered the same thing, just a moment earlier, and even Little Toad and the archer had retreated back through the tent at the appearance of such a formidable force.

  “And how could it be your plan, when it has been my plan all along?” Kulith asked him.

  “What are you saying?” Agrok snapped.

  “I put you in charge of the work with the thyr, knowing you would both work and get it done, faster than what anyone else could anticipate. You could do it faster than Vous Vox could ever react to it being done. You have completed it, haven’t you? Could we light the sap tomorrow and bring down the wall?”

  “It is starting to crumble on its own,” Agrok admitted, sitting down on another stool there before the fire. “We can hear it groan: it cracks and shifts above us, because the foundation is rotten and was never properly done. It will fall sometime in the future all on its own: in a month, or perhaps a year from now.”

  “Do it at noon tomorrow, and I will tell you now a secret I have just learned, and do hold back from the others,” Kulith said to him. “The Black Sky goblins held part of the line during the great battle. They fought well. I say that without your help, this would not be possible, but that cannot be said about many of the others now camped with us.”

  Kulith took his three middle fingers and dipped them into the soot on the cooking rocks, then used them to make the symbol of three horizontal, black wavy lines which stood for the Black Sky goblins, upon the corner of the white cow skin that had the plans for the Stone Pile drawn upon it. Some of the sub chiefs grunted, approving of his gesture. Agrok still looked mad, but had now softened a bit.

  “If the Black Sky goblins want to go first into the Stone Pile I will let them, and the rest of the warriors will stand with lances and wait for them to come back out again. That is because you will unfortunately have all gone white.”

  “What of the thyrs?” Agrok asked.

  “Long Ridge is my pot mate, but I am convinced that I am not his. We will kill or drive off the thyrs for their treachery, if that is a choice we have to make.” They were not surprised by this admission, as the thyrs had never been completely trusted by the rest of the buggers. Kulith had in fact made a point of paying them separately for each of the things they had done, sometimes in advance.

  “There are dangers and surprises waiting within the fortress that will require my abilities and this sword to counter,” he said.

  “Is that the surprise?” Agrok asked, still unwilling to admit to anything.

  “No,” Kulith said, and continued. “The thing I have learned is that the actual treasure inside the Stone Pile is much greater than has been estimated. I will sit upon this knowledge, and be surprised when it becomes self evident. I will allocate the rest of the treasure based on the loyalty and achievement of the buggers in battle.”

  “That does not seem fair, compared to what you proposed before.”

  “I have said more than once, and so have you that I am the true Overlord of the Dimm, and lord of the Stone Pile. As such, I say that this rumor going around about you can still break us apart, if these actions are pursued. If it is my decision to bring down the wall of my own fortress right now, then it has been done for the best. I am convinced that it does not matter what happens afterwards, only that we take this castle and victory together, and go away from it still together, at least for a little while.” Kulith picked up one of the loot bags from the pile they had made to show the rest of the buggers. He threw the sack over to Agrok, who caught it with his hands.

  “That is your reward for a job well done,” Kulith told him. “Now go and bring down the wall of the Stone Pile while you can still do it with honor.”

  Big Agrok and his chiefs left, and Kulith and the rest sat for a few moments with only the sound of the light rain hitting the tent, and the wind gusting across the hills through the grass. Then the leaders of the wounded buggers from the battles they had fought, now forming an auxiliary horde, came in through the flaps and
stood around, waiting to see what he would tell them.

  “Move all the wounded to this camp, who would like a share of the plunder of the Stone Pile,” Kulith told them. “You will serve as the guards, to insure that the ring is closed and that not a lot of it is lost.”

  “What if it is? What if a great host comes forth with sacks full of treasure?” the leader asked him.

  “Then I want to know about it, and who it was,” Kulith said. “You must have your guards positioned all round, at the back of the host, right after the wall comes down. If any thrings escape, or buggers rush out from the garrison, I want to also know about it, if they are stopped or not.”

  “It will take time to bring them all up,” the goblin said.

  “I have asked for the mine to be lit and for the wall to come down tomorrow at noon, but it is more likely that it will happen tonight,” Kulith admitted.” There is nothing that I can do about that.”

  They placed the wheels on the ram that afternoon, and then built a crude stairway that ran up from the middle of it to the front, then part of an apron that would protect the buggers for half the distance, as they moved up onto the stairs. The idea was that it would go on inside the first gate, across to the other, and then allow them to run up and storm the set of windows that existed there along the wall, above the second gate. As the rain put out the rest of the fires they had started the day before with arrows, they pushed the ram partially up the hill into position, so that the defenders would get a good look at it and realized what was now going to be tried. Vous Vox himself took a look at it, before moving more of his remaining troops up to stand along the front wall.

  As it started to get dark, Kulith checked his gear and made last minute adjustments. Some of the trolls were putting on their great coats of mail, and the great circle of the encampment was thickening, as the storming force moved into their final positions, waiting for the word or a sign to tell them that it was time. Everyone had a hunch from pieces of gossip, and they knew part of what had gone on between Agrok and Kulith, including the fact that the treasure was greater than anyone had thought.

  Kilith had puzzled about this for some time himself, and come to the conclusion that the numbering system Little Toad had showed him was for individual lots in a storeroom, and did not really represent the total amount of treasure inside the Stone Pile. Vous Vox might have numbered every sword, or arrow he possessed, for all Kulith knew, and he had said as much to her.

  He knew for certain that there was a master book or group of books somewhere, in a small library perhaps that would tell him what was contained in the treasury and just where it was. If he could lay his hands upon these was a good question, as it could also tell him later what was also missing.

  He ate sparingly and played with Kabi on their pile of skins and blankets, and then slept fitfully after that. He was woken by a great tearing noise, and a shaking of everything on the hilltop, and from the shouts of the camp around him, as they also woke up. He called the White Knife about him and began to dress, and he was not surprised that it was still dark outside.

  He came out of the big tent and looked up at the hill and the sky, and the castle there between them. There was an acrid smell: of old masonry and campfires, and a great sheet of dust hung in the air, so that the stars and clouds that could be seen were weak, as if a mist had formed before the dawn. He put on his helmet on and walked around the front of the camp circle with about a hundred White Knife warriors, to where the others waited and looked up the hill at where the wall of the fortress had been slighted.

  There was a gap between two of the towers, about a hundred feet long, with pieces of wall and rubble still giving way in places, as flames and smoke rose up from several vents that had formed at points across the base. The tower involved had shifted and fallen outward, to wreck upon the hill as a single long pile of masonry, making a slightly curved, snaking line.

  There was a great deal of wood, some furniture, and the bodies of the defenders who had been atop the wall when it had fallen. Kulith signaled to the formation of the horde and it moved up the slope, putting its shields and lances forward, though there were no archers anymore to counter them. Many carried shortened thring lances, some ladders, and a few the particular black iron rods that were used to counter Vous Vox’s lighting magic.

  He saw Ovodag there waiting for him, with almost three hundred trolls, trying to keep everyone else back until he arrived. Kulith came forward to him through the others, and clasp his hand. Nearby stood Long Ridge, with seven or eight hundred thyrs, and they were all grinning. The remark Kulith had made to Agrok had no doubt been heard by him, but it had not been believed, at least for the moment. They thyr leader would have also said just about anything to get the chief of the Black Sky goblins to light the sap.

  “Is this a wise thing we are doing?” Kulith said, looking around at them. “If we all die here, the risk is great for the future of all the other buggers.” The fortress ahead was unusual, almost silent as the buggers started to move forward, going over the first piles of ruin on the slope.

  “Some things are so great that they must be risked,” Long Ridge said, and Ovodag grunted in agreement after hearing it.

  They clambered over the piles of shifting rock and went on into the Stone Pile with no difficulty, as if they were moving along a familiar path to their front door. But then the fighting started almost immediately, with a host of several hundred thrings and goblins coming from where they had been placed around in the outer courtyard to oppose the next gate attack. Kulith pulled out the Tuvier Blade and the other sword he had gotten and began to fight with a pair of the black armored ghouls, they moving to thrust sword bladed spears out at his chest and face.

  He hadn’t counted on the press of several thousand goblins and trolls right behind him, moving into the slight all at once, with only limited open area beyond it, and the bodies moving, going by and into places where the walls had been torn down and new passages opened up. They were soon opposed by perhaps a little over a thousand defenders, and many of them were in poor shape, as both the living and dead in the Stone Pile had been getting by on short rations. Kulith had been oblivious to the suffering going on inside the castle during the siege, but now he understood that it had occurred.

  The thrings he was fighting had their movements constrained by the walls around them, and several outthrust piles were soon trying to pin them, as he checked their swings. Ovodag reached out with his spear and caught one across the throat with his blade, then jerked it back and cut free its head. It fell, only to try and fight on wildly a moment later. Now the thring lances did their work, and soon the other one was down as well.

  The archers who Kulith had armed with swords and shields for the attack were pushing across the outer courts, past the burned walls and building, letting the troll warriors with lances stand behind them, to reach over them and spear the thrings as they could. Other warriors were going off through the exposed passages: through the garrison blocks, storerooms and living quarters in groups of fifty or so. A vampire darted back and forth across the court in a long cloak, using the staircases and landings to both sides, to pause and adjust, and aim back towards another target.

  Kulith followed it as it landed close by, and it jumped forward and struck at him with a great jeweled sword. Kulith beat it back as the Tuvier Blade burst into fire as their weapons rang together, making the courtyard glow brighter than the dawn that was now just coming into the sky over the Dimm. It hopped away in its swirling cowl and the other thrings likewise moved back, to avoid the burning blade. Goblins and thyrs flooded into the spot before him that they had vacated, hacking with their swords, pushing their wooden lances through the maggoty, dead white flesh and black armor.

  “The Lord of the Stone Pile!” Kulith roared out, brandishing the burning sword up into the air as they cleared the courtyard, as the widows along the outside of the second inner bastion now opened, to reveal archers who shot down at them, and thrings and other bugg
ers who dropped rocks and heavy pieces of furniture out. These fell and shattered on the flagstones, or crushed the rebels that were struck by them.

  They put their shields up over their heads and gathered at the gates to the bastion and the inner courtyard. They had been easily recognized from the drawings that Kabi had made, and they were of course found shut. The axes that Kulith had insisted be brought along were now used by the thyrs and the trolls to attack the doors, while the others fought anyone who was left. Defenders were still coming down off the undestroyed sections of walls, and from the surrounding courts and passages. There was a great racket, as the rebel buggers stretched their mass around a turn the side of the court, to attack another wall of the square inner fortress. The archers that Kulith had not rearmed now began to pick off the defenders who showed themselves through the windows above.

  Each chop by an axe and splintering of more wood from the door seemed like a heartbeat that took a whole hour to fall. They had to back away when shouts were heard from those around, and play cat and mouse with the objects that were being dropped from above, while the archery duel continued. Finally, after five stops and starts, the door began to break apart, and the iron bands were worked and bent to lift it partway off its hinges, so that it could be thrown to the side.

  The defenders had put archers on the other side of the passage, to shoot the trolls and goblins who rushed on through it. After two volleys, much of which was caught on the shields the rebels had taken from Sterina’s army, the defenders lit the oil that had been splashed across the cobblestones and the heavy walls, and the flames from this blew out, searing them, and forced them all back to the start, where they sat waiting for water and sand to be thrown in. A half dozen ladders went up and reached the lower windows of the inner fortress, and buggers began climbing up to them, to infiltrate it, fight, and do whatever damage they could. By the time they wetted and put out most of the flames in the passage, there were a number of other doors about to fall, as it seemed was the whole inner fortress.